Every Story Has A Beginning
by MissNarrator
Summary: In the swamp of the dead, three men find themselves in rather odd circumstances. When a fourth man joins who seems to have all the answers, where will their story take them? We're going back to the beginning, to find how they ended up killing the undead just to survive. The beginning starts here. (Rated just in case. If you feel I need to change the rating, please let me know!)
1. The Swamp

_He betrayed them._  
_They should have seen it coming. Infact, they did._  
_They just never stopped it. _  
_Oh wait, am I skipping too far ahead? I'm sorry, let me start from the beginning. __One would wonder why I'm rambling about this, I do suppose. And, I do apologize. Well, from here on out I shall begin from the beginning. Maybe not the exact beginning, but the beginning nonetheless._  
_Let's get started, shall we? I do apologize for the inconvenience._

_Well, here we go, I suppose. _

**x-x-x-x-x**

"Where the hell are we?"  
Those were the first words to escape the man's mouth, his golden colored hair rather messy. He stared around, the dried blood and dirt beneath his fingernails giving them a dark, rusty color. He stared at the man standing to his left; a man with raven black hair and equally dark, chocolate eyes. He glanced at the American, and shrugged. A man of few words, as was apparent about him. The American let out a heavy, if ever slightly aggravated sigh, turning to face the man a few feet behind them, dressed in thick, dark clothes mostly suited for cold, Russian winters.  
"You comin', Nikolai?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow, a slightly amused smirk on his face as he watched the man waddle through the shallow water. The blond scratched at the growing beard on his face, mumbling to himself about how he needed to shave soon. If it grew long within the next few months, it gave the freakbags more to grab, and no one wanted to have their beards ripped off by an undead gutbag. That was certainly no fun at all.  
"I'm coming, I'm coming." The Russian grumbled in response, stepping forward after taking a quick swig from a bottle he held in his right hand. "Fuckin' swamps, always have been trouble for Nikolai." He added, quite annoyed at the current circumstances. His words earned a laugh from the American, as the three advanced towards the hut in the middle of the swamp. They finally, finally had found shelter, and in the best-case scenario, there might just be food rations inside, as well. They had finished the last of the MRE's, and the idea of eating zombie flesh... well, that just didn't sound appetizing to anyone. Or at least, to anyone in their group.

The men stepped inside the hut, glad to be out of the water. They looked around, and soon began searching for supplies. The man with the dark eyes, an Imperial soldier of the Japanese army, began to search for food. He always made everything he rationed out exactly equal, having been taught from a young age never to be greedy, so he was in charge of food rations. The American was in charge of weaponry, being sure to find the ammo they needed. The Russian was the one who they sent out in search of new headquarters incase their current one got overrun, and while the Imperial despised him, they managed to put up with eachother, not killing eachother quite yet.  
"Do you think anyone's living here?" Nikolai questioned, turning to face the American as he dug through some old equipment. It looked like medical equipment, which was one of the disturbing things about this hut. Not to mention the swinging, hanging body above their heads, but they had all silently agreed not to mention him.  
"Nah, this place looks completely abandoned. Good news for us, eh, Nikolai?" He replied with a smug smirk. Nikolai nodded with a laugh.  
"Yeah, good news for us." He repeated, staring at some of the equipment. Needles half-filled with some sort of clear liquid, another empty syringe, a bottle of pills, a bottle of rubbing alcohol-  
"Don't even think of drinkin' that shit." The American said with a chortle. Nikolai huffed, rolling his eyes.  
"Dempsey, you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He asked, hands resting on his hips. The Imperial nearby had stopped rummaging through crates to listen to the conversation, nodding his head.  
"Well, you do have a history of alcoholism." He mumbled under his breath, going back to searching for something, anything they could ration out, if only for a night.  
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to drink this shit. It smells like piss, anyways. Rotting pig piss." Nikolai said as he set the bottle of rubbing alcohol back into a wooden crate.  
"Alright, alright, if you two ladies would stop arguing-"  
"Ladies?" Nikolai seemed offended at this, growling and clenching his hands into fists.  
"Forget it. We need to find somethin' to keep us alive." The one addressed as Dempsey spoke. The Russian grumbled, rolling his eyes once more. As they all went back to searching for food, for weapons and for ammunition - and if they were really damn lucky, maybe some idea of where they were - a noise seemed to awake them from whatever trance they were in. It was a creak, a moan of the rafters, and then silence. The noise had them all on edge. Their weapons were out of ammo, so they'd have to rely on their knives. When there seemed to be no danger, they all collectively let out a sigh of relief.  
"Ah, hell. I hate that sound." Dempsey said, a relieved chuckle escaping him. Nikolai nodded, and the Imperial continued searching for food, mumbling in his native tongue. Dempsey stepped over to the corpse that was dangling from a rope in the rafters, staring at the dead man. They were missing an arm, it seemed.  
"Poor bastard," he said, frowning. "Wonder what the hell got him?"  
"Probably the same shit that'll get us if we're not careful." Nikolai replied with a laugh. Dempsey didn't laugh at this, but instead shook his head, and felt some sort of a pain of recognition, as if he'd met the hanging man before. He sighed, biting at his bottom lip, and then returning to search through the crates for weaponry. He managed to find some rifles, and now was attempting to find ammunition.

And somewhere else in the swamp, a man with a wide grin was wandering, a spring in his step.

_  
**A/N: Please do forgive me if I'm not that good at telling this story. I'll be sure to improve in the future. **  
**Hope you did enjoy!**


	2. The Doctor

The night was as boring as ever. The cicadas chirping non-stop in the distance didn't help. Dempsey attempted to cover his ears, but the noise seeped through his fingers, causing him to let out a groan of annoyance.  
"Tak, got any way to block out the fuckin' cicadas?" He asked, staring over at the Imperial. He only shook his head, back leaning against the wall as he sat near one of the entrances. They hadn't quite removed the body from where it hung in the room, which was a problem. Rotting bodies bring bugs. Bugs carry disease. Disease can become the zombie virus. If any of them got infected...  
"I don't know how to make them stop, I'm sorry." The man said. He paused for a moment, almost as if in thought, before letting the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a very, very small hint of a smile, almost a ghost of one. "To be honest, it reminds me of home."  
"If this is what your home sounds like, I ain't ever coming by to visit." Dempsey said with a slight chuckle. The Imperial chuckled, and then continued to sit silently, the only light coming from a kerosene lamp and the full moon above. The vines and branches were causing shadows in odd, ghostly shapes to be cast across the building. The Russian snored loudly in the corner, curled up into as tight of a ball as he could be. While warm, the humidity caused a slight chill across them as they moved. It was as though one would be swimming through the air, having water all around, and it being mid-summer. The jungle was definitely not an ideal place to be during summer.  
"Hey, Takeo?" Dempsey spoke, breaking the pause of speech. The drunk Russian was still asleep, and snoring rather loudly, but they ignored him for the moment.  
"Yes?" Takeo replied, his sword giving off an eerie reflection in the moonlight.  
"Where the hell are you even from, anyways? I know you're from Japan, but I mean like, what part?" He asked, lying down on the wooden floorboards. Takeo seemed to be deep in thought, and then shook his head.  
"I... don't remember, sorry." He said with a shrug. Dempsey shrugged aswell.  
"It's fine. To tell you the truth, I don't remember exactly where I'm from, either." He said, staring up at the ceiling.  
They let the conversation stop there.

**x-x-x-x-x**

The next morning, they would take the body down.  
The sun had arisen, the heat of the morning coming quickly. The man under the name of Takeo had been awake for quite a while. He didn't really... sleep. The nightmares kept him awake long enough. He hadn't chosen to try and awake the other two. He rather enjoyed being the only one awake. It gave him time to think.  
When the others had awoken, they attempted several times to get the body down by just remaining on the ground, but decided the most effective way would be to stand on some crates and cut the rope. Once they'd managed to get the body to the ground, Dempsey gagged, seeing the full extent of several days rotting. Maggots crawling out of the corpse's eyes, skin a pale, skeleton white, and the stench of death being overpowering. The three men stood there, wordless, breathless. It was truly a horrifying sight. However, having seen similar - if not worse events - Nikolai shrugged it off rather easily. He took a swig of vodka, and began to drag the body out of the hut.  
"Where do we burry it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Dempsey and Takeo glanced at eachother, silent.  
"Awh, come on. Don't tell me we took the damn bastard's body down and have no fucking clue where to put him?" Nikolai groaned, frowning. As the silence lingered, he growled.  
"Alright. We'll put him in a big crate and shove it out into the water. Deal?" He suggested.  
No one objected.  
Once the body was shoved with some force into a crate, the three men dragged it down the stairs, and out into the swampy air. Dempsey opened the gate ahead of them, and as they began to wander towards the bridge, they stopped. That's when they heard a rather unfamiliar voice call, with a hint of amusement in it's tone.  
"Taking out the trash, are you? Oh, don't give me that look! You look as though you're ridding yourselves of a dead body." It spoke, the voice belonging to a man in a Nazi uniform, his hands behind his back. Dempsey growled. Oh, great, he thought. First a fuckin' Jap, now a damn Nazi. Well, he didn't mind Takeo too much, but this man...  
"Yeah, well, we gotta get rid of some shit." Dempsey spoke, growling. He didn't like the chill he felt when this strange man spoke. It wasn't... natural. His tone, his unusually wide grin at the subject, and the glint in his eyes. It almost looked like a joyous one, despite their circumstances.  
"Ah, I see. Well, that's rather odd, to put it all in a crate. I suppose it is your method, however." The German said with a shrug, his eyes a dark, sapphire blue. He tipped his officer's cap, smirking.  
"My name is doctor Edward Richtofen. Freut Mich." He said, now approaching Dempsey and extending a gloved hand. The American's face almost distorted into an expression of disgust. The man smelt as though he had been in the swamp for longer than a few days. It was a foul odor of blood, dirt, swamp water, and sweat. Nevertheless, he shook the mans hand.  
"Yeah, good to meet you, doc." He said, nodding. The German smiled, and shook hands with the other two.  
"Ja, it is my pleasure. Now, tell me, where is it you all come from? It is obvious you're American, you're Russian, and... ah! You're Japanese, correct?" He asked, his voice unusually calm, and ever slightly cheerful.  
"Da, that is correct." Nikolai replied, staring at the doctor with mild curiosity. He'd not seen anyone dressed in such a uniform, and found his voice so very odd. It was almost as if he were attempting to keep a calm, collected voice, and instead wanted to scream out at the top of his lungs, but was straining as not to do so.  
"It is a pleasure to meet you." Takeo spoke, polite and calm. He would not speak his observations about the man, but he did not trust the stranger. Then again, he didn't trust his teammates too much, either.  
After a few moments silence, Richtofen began to help them move the crate. He asked (albeit, in a joking manner) what the odd stench was, and if they had been hiding a body.  
Nobody laughed. At least, not sincerely. Nervous chuckles were managed. They denied there being a dead body inside the crate, not fully trusting the man.  
Once they'd dragged the crate to the bridge, Dempsey and Nikolai tossed it into the water, watching it sink for a few feet, now finding that the water was not as deep as they'd thought. They ignored this, walking back towards the hut and looking around.  
"So, how long've you been here, doc?" Dempsey asked the man, actually slightly curious. The German only shrugged, a smirk still plastered on his face.  
"I've been here for a while, but I'm not entirely sure exactly how long." He replied with the same, rather discomforting tone of voice. The American only nodded, stepping into the hut.  
It was then that they started to hear the groans.  
The first to notice was Takeo, who stared over at one of the windows. Nikolai seemed to notice as well, and spoke up.  
"'Ey, you hear that?" He asked, taking a swig of vodka and turning to face the window. Takeo growled, staring at the Russian.  
"Quiet, if the undead hear, they'll know where we are." He said, gripping tightly to his katana. If he needed to use it, he would. Richtofen chuckled, taking out his luger from a holster on his belt, checking that it was loaded. Dempsey grabbed his knife, and Nikolai looked around.  
"Wait, didn't we find some good rifles earlier? Why're we not using those?" He asked. Dempsey stared at him.  
The Russian had a point.  
He walked over to one of the crates, grabbing an Arisaka rifle, and loading it. He looked at Dempsey, chuckling.  
"You not going to get one?" He asked. Richtofen laughed, staring at the American who was only armed with a knife. Dempsey took another rifle from the crate, and loaded it as well.

And so it began.

-  
**A/N: I apologize for any inaccuracies, as I've not played Shi No Numa in a while. Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
